


Pancakes and Waffles

by LeiUmbrella



Category: Produce 101 (TV), X1 (Korea Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - College/University, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Friendship, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Suicide, Male Friendship, References to Depression, Suicide Attempt, Trigger Warnings: Suicide, suicide ideation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-05
Updated: 2019-10-07
Packaged: 2020-11-24 10:44:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,950
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20906354
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LeiUmbrella/pseuds/LeiUmbrella
Summary: "I know this will seem weird. And frankly, I’d surely regret this immediately after pressing ‘tweet’, but. . . can you please tell me that you’ll miss me if I were ever gone?"Seungyoun finds himself looking back at the past, all the while feeling anxious of the present. Hangyul wants to offer help, but breakfast was the only thing he could give.





	1. Seungyoun

**Author's Note:**

> Trigger Warnings: Suicide attempt and suicidal ideations.  
Also: Very canon divergent.

_ I know this will seem weird. And frankly, I’d surely regret this immediately after pressing ‘tweet’, but. . . can you please tell me that you’ll miss me if I were ever gone? _

“Hey, _hyung_?”

The mere voice of his roommate, Hangyul, was enough for him to promptly erase the words he was typing out on Twitter. Diverting his attention from his phone (and from his thoughts), he looked at Hangyul who was busy rubbing his eyes, all the while yawning loudly. Sitting down and with his back against the headboard, his younger roommate eyed him curiously, and if his instincts were right, with a flicker of concern, “Hey . . .” another yawn, “why are you up so early?”

“It’s already 8:00 AM, Hangyul. It isn’t _that _early.”

“And it’s also a Sunday. It’s not like you’re a morning person.”

Before he could even respond, Hangyul stood up and hurriedly grabbed his cap and sweater, both of which were messily strewn on the floor alongside other random books and notes. “Let’s grab breakfast from your favorite café.”

With a playful smirk, he teased Hangyul, “It’s not like you have any money.”

“Exactly.” Hangyul retorted, “that’s why I’m asking _you_ to come with me. Rich boy, won’t you spend money on your friend afflicted with poverty?”

“Shut up with your nonsense theatrics, Gyul.”

Hangyul chuckled, “Yeah, yeah. Whatever. I’ll go grab some pancakes and waffles for us, okay? I’ll take them to-go, if you’d want to eat here at home. Let’s eat breakfast together.” Walking toward the other side of the room where their bags (and almost empty wallets) were, Hangyul distractedly hummed _Mary had a Little Lamb._

Sadly, Seungyoun hid his smile: Hangyul has always been predictable. His mannerisms make him (and all the emotions he wants to hide) very transparent. Unfortunately, Seungyoun knows him all too well: Seungyoun knows how much he likes a girl whenever he raises his eyebrows, with his gaze eager and intense, while talking. Seungyoun knows how much he dislikes a person whenever he crinkles his nose while listening to someone else talk.

And Seungyoun knows what it means whenever he hums any random nursery rhyme: It means anxiety, and a need to divert his thoughts.

Tugging his long sleeves, he spoke, “Hey, Gyul.”

“Hmm?” Hangyul answered distractedly as he picked up his wallet to check if he had any cash left.

“You don’t need to do this.” 

Momentarily stopping what he was doing, Hangyul faced him, “Do what?”

Inwardly, Seungyoun wanted to laugh dryly and sarcastically; during all these years of friendship, he and Hangyul had been very straightforward with their thoughts and emotions. They occasionally had rows, all of which they had been able to work out. Honesty, Hangyul once said, is necessary in all relationships.

But somehow, Hangyul has a weakness toward _this, _this emotion: it isn’t something he can easily bring up. It isn’t something he can easily be _honest_ about. Frankly, it’s not like Seungyoun can blame Hangyul.

_“You don’t have to be concerned about me,” _He wanted to lie.

Instead, he said: “I . . .” failing to find the right words, he found himself stuttering, “I mean, you uh… you don’t have to grab breakfast for us. It’s not like you’re a morning person.”

Nervously chuckling, Hangyul just shook his head no, “I want to, though.” Awkwardly ruffling his own hair, Hangyul asked, “Would you want some hot chocolate, too?”

“Sure.”

Before walking out the bedroom door, Hangyul looked at Seungyoun, his expression unreadable but his tone pleading, “Let’s talk later, okay? When we’re both full and awake.”

Again, Seungyoun merely replied: “Sure.”

At the sound of Hangyul’s receding footsteps, Seungyoun found himself staring at his phone again, its screen already blacked out due to minutes of inactivity. He turned it on again, and the time read: 8:04AM.

Their conversation didn’t even last five minutes. But to Seungyoun, it felt like forever. The whole time he was talking to Hangyul, he felt his ears burning and his hands almost shaking. “It’s because you’re hiding something.” He thought to himself. Again, he felt the need to laugh dryly, “It’s not like you’re doing well at hiding it, Seungyoun.”

Opening up the Twitter app again, he thought twice about posting what he initially wanted to, all the while checking his notifications. There were 20 unread notifications, mostly from retweets of his stupid memes and comments from random followers. Sighing, he closed it again. It was better to keep up the façade of happiness and stupidity than to address the fact that inwardly, he was waging a war against himself.

_“They do know though, don’t they? Somehow they know that there’s something wrong with you,”_ he thought silently, putting his phone in his pocket.

Everyone knows that he entered college late; three whole years late. He graduated high school at 19, but didn’t enter college until he was 22 years old, in 2018.

“Aren’t you a bit old to be a freshman?” others often asked him, quite rudely but without (or with very minimal) ill intentions. He merely shrugged and said, “I had health reasons. But all is fine now.” He would answer with a huge smile plastered on his face.

Said health reasons were never disclosed.

Said health reasons pertained to broken bones, a result of a botched suicide attempt.

“Broken bones that needed healing, and a bruised and traumatized mind in need of peace.” Sometimes, Seungyoun wishes he could just say it out loud, wishes he could just scream at the world exactly what he feels. But he couldn’t. Because he wishes to move on, and to him, moving on means forgetting.

“You don’t need to forget it, _hyung. _We learn from our experiences, and how can you learn if you forget?” Hangyul once said to him, during one of the rare times he is able to talk to Seungyoun about the latter’s difficult to understand emotions.

He merely smiled simply, all the while thinking how Hangyul doesn’t understand. How Hangyul doesn’t understand how the memories are enough to hurt him.

Memories of his mom screaming and crying.

Memories of Hangyul crying and asking.

Asking questions he could never answer, all of which boiled down to one thing: “Why?”

Years after his first (and so far, only) suicide attempt, he still hasn’t told them exactly why. Years after his first suicide attempt, he still cannot forget the sound of their cries, and his feelings of guilt for wanting to die. And he still hates himself for feeling despair over his failure.

Years of therapy (physical and emotional) helped him somehow. But it still is difficult, to explain exactly why he did what he did.

“I was bored, mom.”

“Hangyul, I didn’t know what to look forward to anymore.”

There were times when he almost told them the truth, but he could never find the right words. And at the back of his mind, he found himself thinking, “Maybe they do already know. Maybe just like me, they just couldn’t find the right words to say.”

Sighing, he thought back to his therapy sessions with the psychiatrist, and he thought of how shocked he had been: how shocked he had been to realize that it is possible to feel as bad as he had due to internal reasons, due to his own thoughts.

He had been unsure of what to do in university. He had been carrying such a big burden on his shoulders, had been carrying so many titles given to him: Top student Cho Seungyoun, School Heartthrob Cho Seungyoun, Musician Cho Seungyoun. His teachers expected him to go to med or law school. His admirers expected him to be a celebrity or a model. His bandmates and their supporters expected him to pursue music and be a songwriter or singer.

“You’re so lucky! You have plenty of options for your future!”

He wanted to scoff.

He had so many options, but none seemed appealing.

(the only option that ever seemed appealing was death).

“Should I try it again?”

The thought of the chef’s knife against his bare skin seemed tempting. The sight of his own body laying on the ground, with his blood pouring out seemed beautiful. The train seemed beautiful, with the railways splattered with his own blood.

But the sound of Hangyul’s footsteps put him out of his reverie. The scent of pancakes and waffles filled the air, but he found no appetite to eat. With his chest heaving and heavy, he found himself panting as he walked briskly toward Hangyul, the latter boy completely taken by surprise.

“Hyung?”

“Hangyul, I . . . “ he stuttered again, “I think I’m not okay. Again.” Struggling to find the right words, he tried to continue, “I’m not sure if I ever was okay.”

Putting down the bags of pancakes and waffles, Hangyul opened his arms as he let the taller boy cry on his shoulders. With snot and tears coming out of Seungyoun, he sobbed, “I . . . I’m tired, Hangyul.”

“I know.” Trying to calm him down, Hangyul gently patted his back, “I know. And I’m sorry.”

For the first time in a long time, Seungyoun found himself crying and sobbing and just _feeling_.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi! This is my first time writing fiction since 2016. I've been trying to sort my career and emotional health, and I was unable to spend time on my first passion: writing. I'm glad I got around to fangirling over x1 though, because they inspired me to write fiction again. Please do know though that this is canon divergent, so I'd like to ask for your understanding in case some of the character traits and backstories here are not aligned with the public image(s) of the characters involved.
> 
> Please do leave some comments and give constructive criticisms if possible. Otherwise, just tell me what you thought of the story. I'd love to hear from you :) 
> 
> Update for the next (and last) chapter will be posted 2-3weeks later. Sorry, work is just a bit hectic, and I have yet to finish the last chapter. In the meantime, please follow me at my stan acc: @leigyul. I follow back. Sometimes. And contrary to what this fic may imply, my personality is actually quite fluffy and "uwu". LOL.
> 
> Thank you!


	2. Hangyul

Whenever he feels _any_ negative emotion, Seungyoun laughs instead of crying or screaming.

Hangyul has fond childhood memories of Seungyoun roaring with laughter whenever he gets bruised during playtime, with Seungyoun being hyper and tumbling around even when it isn’t needed in their games. Hangyul remembers seeing Seungyoun laugh during his first heartbreak, jokingly saying how it was his ex’s loss, not his. Hangyul remembers Seungyoun’s last year in high school, how the latter failed an examination that almost threatened his academic standing. He remembered how Seungyoun smiled at him cheekily and jokingly, “Little guy,” he said, ruffling Hangyul’s hair, “I failed the exam just so my friends won’t be too envious of me. Don’t worry too much about my grades. It’s not like you’re my mom.”

He has too many memories of his hyung laughing and smiling over his sadness and anger and every emotion possible, that he had developed this mental image of Seungyoun laughing on the rooftop, on the day he chose to die. He imagined his hyung going into hysterics whenever he holds a knife against his skin. He thought of how Seungyoun probably smiles whenever he writes his suicide notes.

So _this . . . _this is a foreign sight to him.

Seungyoun looks so tall but feels so small in between his arms, as the older boy’ face is weakly burrowed on his chest, tears and snot falling on both their shirts.

Sobs and almost unintelligible words came out of Seungyoun, but Hangyul understood what it all boiled down to: “I’m not okay.”

“I know, hyung.” He says weakly as he pats his hyung’s back, “and I’m sorry.”

And again, Hangyul hears Seungyoun’s laughter, laughter in between the sobs and tears.

“What in the world are you sorry for, stupid?”

There’s a lump on Hangyul’s throat as he tried desperately to answer. But he couldn’t. Because there were so many things he wanted to apologize for. So many things, that he could barely choose just one. So many mistakes and misgivings, that he himself began to feel confused why exactly he was sorry.

_Maybe he’s sorry for all the times he didn’t tell Seungyoun how it was okay to cry._

When Seungyoun sprained his ankle just before his big soccer match, many years before, Hangyul saw how his hyung’s hands trembled and how badly he fidgeted, tugging his own sleeves, pinching his own skin, restless. With a big smile plastered on Seungyoun’s face, he lied through gritted teeth, “I’m fine. It’s fine. At least I can rest instead of tiring myself out, right?”

_“It’s okay to cry,”_ he should have said. Instead he said: “I think it’s amazing how you can still smile. Yeah, I’m sure it’s fine.”

When Seungyoun had his first breakup, Hangyul saw how hollow and empty Seungyoun’s eyes looked. They laughed and ranted about his ex, with Seungyoun’s voice high and loud, but his hands restless and fingers scratching his skin every chance he gets.

_“It’s okay to cry,” _he should have said. Instead, he joked around the way Seungyoun did, all the while evading the topics of _hurt _and _pain_.

When Seungyoun failed an exam for the very first time, Hangyul saw how badly Seungyoun’s pride was hurt. With his eyes hollow, Seungyoun said his stupid joke, and Hangyul did the same stupid mistake he has been doing for many years already.

_“It’s okay to cry,´ _he once again neglected to say, as he instead laughed heartily and teased his hyung relentlessly, all the while hoping his hyung could feel better.

_“It’s okay to cry, but I never once told you that.”_

“I don’t know why I’m sorry, hyung. I just am.”

_Or maybe, he’s sorry for all the times he didn’t notice._

(or all the times he ignored the things he didn’t want to notice)

Seungyoun one day started spending less time playing soccer, saying how it got boring. He one day started feeling lazy of singing in his band, saying it got boring. He started writing songs less and less, saying it was starting to get boring. He stopped reading books for fun, saying it got boring. They started hanging out less and less, because Seungyoun started getting more tired and tired.

Seungyoun one day started sleeping more and more, joking how it was the only fun thing left in the world.

Hangyul didn’t know what to do, what to say.

So he stayed silent.

He stayed silent, all he while hanging out with his own group of friends, doing his own thing, living his own life, almost forgetting his first best friend, his closest hyung. Ignorantly, he thought that maybe Seungyoun was just busy with school, or maybe he doesn’t find Hangyul fun to be with anymore. Maybe their childhood friendship found its end during their teens, he thought.

When Seungyoun started wearing long sleeves every day despite the hot weather, Hangyul ignored it and thought of it as his hyung’s weird style.

When he heard of how Seungyoun jumped off the school rooftop a few days after the graduation ceremony, Hangyul felt like he wanted to jump, too. The pain, the guilt, and the confusion were too much to handle.

_“I thought we were friends, and I could have done something. Should have done something. But I didn’t”_

“You’re stupid, you know. You have nothing to be sorry for.”

“I think I do.”

“What?”

“I . . . “ holding back his own tears, Hangyul tried to speak despite the lump in his throat, “I don’t know.” Hugging the older boy even more tightly, “What I do know is that it’s okay for you to cry, hyung. And I’m sorry, I’m sorry for not knowing what to do.”

After uttering the words he so badly wished he could have said years earlier, Hangyul heard his hyung’s sobs get louder.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Remember when I said last chapter that this will only have two chapters? Well. I lied.
> 
> Remember also when I said it might take me two-three weeks before I could update?
> 
> Well, I lied again.


	3. Seungyoun and Hangyul

“When was the last time you ever cried?” Yena asked during a game of spin the bottle in one of the parties a _sunbae_ held. The others in the game laughed, “Oh my god, Yena. Why would you ask such a boring question?” they jeered.

Yena, unfazed, answered them, “Seungyoun is always happy though. I want to know if he has a sappy backstory of crying under the blanket every night.” Turning back to Seungyoun, “So, oppa. When was the last time you ever cried?”

Seungyoun laughed. He loved the girl as much as he would have probably loved a younger sister if he had one, but Yena makes little to no sense when drunk. There were lot of better and more intriguing questions to be asked, but Yena chose this one.

Yena chose the one question he doesn’t know the answer to.

Contrary to what his friends and family have been led to believe, Seungyoun actually used to cry a lot.

Back in his childhood and teenage years, he really did have the sappy backstory of crying under the blanket every night, while maintaining a happy façade when with other people.

He thought it was embarrassing, how often he found himself crying. He tried hard to keep his cries and his tears a secret, and he succeeded. “It’s okay to cry, son.” His mom used to always tell him whenever he had a hard time, “I don’t think I’ve ever seen you cry. I don’t know if you even know what crying is,” his mom says with a gentle laugh, “but it’s okay to cry.”

Mom, you don’t know how often I cry.

When he decided to jump off the rooftop a few days after his high school graduation, an event where he received many accolades, he found himself surprised at the lack of tears involved.

“Whatever I do with my life is bound to be boring,” he said while sitting on the edge of the rooftop, his legs dangling, “death seems more exciting.”

He didn’t know what ‘exciting’ meant, but he was sure it didn’t entail broken bones and the threat of a paralysis.

After the failed attempt though, he found himself unable to cry, even when he wanted to.

When he entered the engineering department despite not having the passion for it, he knew he was in for a hard time. With every low scores at quizzes and exams, he found his pride diminishing more and more, his glory days of “Top Student Cho Seungyoun” gone and long behind him. He wanted to cry in self-pity and confusion, but he couldn’t.

Whenever the short-lived relationships he entered during college ended, he found himself wanting to cry and _feel_, but he couldn’t.

And when thoughts of death plagued his mind endlessly again, he wanted to cry in anxiety and fear that his mom might get hurt again. But no tears ever fell.

“I don’t know, Yena. I don’t remember the last time I cried.”

The crowd jeered and booed, while Seungyoun laughed. “Should I have chosen dare instead?”

It was a whole night of partying and messing around and just pretending to be okay.

Seungyoun wishes he were in a party right now, so he could just dance and kiss anyone and just be the hot mess that he was. So that the loud music could drown away the thoughts of suicide, so that the crowd could distract him enough not to hurt his own skin.

Instead, he’s in Hangyul’s embrace, and he would have found it such a funny sight if he didn’t need it, didn’t need a friend’s hug. It would have been such a funny sight, if he didn’t admit how good it felt to cry.

Breaking away from the hug, he hastily tried to calm down, using his sleeves to wipe off all the tears. “Sorry, I got your shirt all wet.”

“It’s fine. Uh . . . let’s eat breakfast?”

Seungyoun laughed heartily, “You . . . god, do you really think food can solve all problems?”

Confused and with his brows furrowed, Hangyul asked, “Does it not? I mean, Dohyon feels a lot better whenever I feed him.” Scratching his own head, “I can’t believe I’m comparing you to my own teenage brother. Sorry, I didn’t know what to do.”

Smiling a little, Seungyoun said, “You’ve said sorry too many times already. It’s fine. You have nothing to be sorry about.” Motioning to the pancakes and waffles, he instructed, “Please go set the table.”

Hangyul did as he was told, but he still felt confused. He has known Seungyoun for as long as he could remember, but it embarrasses him how he doesn’t know what to do to make his friend feel better. After the food has been set, he asked, “How are you feeling now?”

Lazily cutting the pancakes, Seungyoun answered: “Obviously not good. But really, Hangyul . . . thanks.”

“I… I’m really sorry though, hyung.”

Seungyoun chuckled, “Stop saying sorry. You’re making me feel guilty.”

“I really am though. I’m sorry for not knowing what to do for you.” Awkwardly taking a bite, he added, “Are you still seeing a doctor, hyung?”

“I am. But I . . . “ sighing deeply, “I’m tired, Hangyul. I don’t think I’m getting any better.”

“Then go see another doctor.” Hangyul said without skipping a beat.

Seungyoun laughed at the unexpected comment, “I . . . “ looking Hangyul straight in the eye, and with a sad smile, “do you think it’ll help?”

“I don’t know. But we’ll only know if we try, won’t we? After breakfast, we can call your mom. I’ll also try looking up and asking on forums about which hospitals are the best with psychiatric treatment or with counselling.”

“I don’t know . . . “ playing with his food and with his eyes downcast, “I’m afraid though.”

“Of what?”

“That you might get tired of me. That mom might get tired.”

Hangyul wishes he could say that he won’t get tired, but frankly, he didn’t know the future. He himself was afraid that maybe, one day, he might get tired of feeling afraid and anxious of Seungyoun’s well-being. Afraid that he might take the easy way out and drop the friendship and all the love he has for his hyung. Plaintively, he said “Whatever happens, please don’t get tired of yourself, hyung.”

Looking up from his plate, “Hm?”

“Even if the whole world gets tired of you, you should never get tired of yourself. Please. I don’t know much about emotions and stuff, but . . . I think you should never stop loving yourself.”

“What if I no longer know how to love myself?”

“I love you though, hyung,” Hangyul said, all the while inwardly cringing at his show of affections. Cringing but also telling himself that he should say these things to let Seungyoun know. “I know there are also a lot of people who love you. Can’t you try basking in our love, and maybe through that, you can remember how to love yourself?”

Also inwardly cringing at Hangyul’s sudden and unexpected show of affections, Seungyoun smiled, “Thank you.” All these words would have sounded awkward coming from Hangyul, and Seungyoun would have laughed if he didn’t desperately need to hear it.

“I wish I could have said these things earlier though. I wish I could have tried to understand you earlier, hyung. I’m sorry. And I know that you’ve been hurting yourself again, but I didn’t know what in the world I could do, and I---”

“Stop saying sorry, I mean it.” Distractedly playing with the maple syrup on his plate, Seungyoun said “Whatever happened in the past with me, whatever is happening right now, and whatever will happen in the future, please don’t apologize. None of it was your fault. When I jumped from that rooftop, I know you blamed yourself somehow. But it wasn’t your fault. It wasn’t anyone’s fault.” Smiling sadly, “I don’t even understand myself completely, how in the world can _you_ know exactly what to do?”

“I don’t know . . . “

“I am afraid that you and mom might one day get tired of me. But if ever that happens, please know that I won’t blame either of you, and neither would I get angry.”

Suppressing his tears, Hangyul just said, “Let’s finish breakfast, okay? And then if you think a new doctor might help, maybe you should tell your mom about it. If not, maybe you should try to talk about your doctor about what you’re feeling and how they might help, okay?”

“Okay.”

Neither of them knew the future. Seungyoun didn’t know whether his condition could improve, and Hangyul didn’t know whether he would someday get tired.

What they do know though was that in that moment, the only thing that mattered was that they had each other.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There you have it folks, the last chapter!
> 
> I know that there are lots of room for improvement. :( But I wish this was enjoyable enough as it is. I didn't know exactly how to end this, but to be frank . . . 
> 
> As someone battling depression for 8 years now, I've lost some parts of myself that I used to love. I also lost some of the closest friends I thought who would be there for me until the end - some left because they got tired, others because realistically speaking, they (we?) were busy with our own lives and though we still love each other, we don't have much time for each other anymore.
> 
> So I wanted to write this story for all the Hangyuls out there. If someone you know is battling depression, please always try your best to just be there for them. But if it ever gets tiresome, if it ever gets toxic, don't worry and don't feel guilty for giving yourself some self-love. If you're a Hangyul who experienced the suicide or suicide attempt of a friend, please never blame yourself, okay?
> 
> And to all the Seungyouns out there: Please never get tired of yourself, never get tired of fighting. :)
> 
> I wrote this as a form of self-expression, but if this ever was triggering to you (god, I hope not, huhu) please do not hesitate to inform me.
> 
> Please follow me on twt at @leigyul. I swear, I'm occasionally funny.
> 
> Lastly: Please drop some comments below to let me know how this story made you feel (if applicable, LOL). 
> 
> (Oops. This Author's note is quite long, LOL.)


End file.
